


666

by Anonymous



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 06:52:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18204995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Neron always had been a clever little bastard.





	666

“You know this is a mistake.”

The smile freezes on Constantine’s face and he doesn’t answer right away. Des hadn’t said it like a question and really, it wasn’t one — a fucking child would know that this is a mistake. Hell, even _Rory_ would know this is a mistake. 

“That much is obvious, Des,” Constantine finally says, when he’s swallowed most of the anger and he’s reasonably sure it won’t be sent in the wrong direction. He can still feel it though, settling in the pit of his stomach, leaching into his bloodstream, floating about and just waiting to be let out again. Not that it matters, Constantine thinks. As long it wasn’t sent Des’ way, he could live with it.

Des, of course, isn’t fooled for a second. 

“John —”

“ _What_ ,” he snaps viciously, and wow, he’d managed to rein in it for — what? All of five seconds? So much for the Legends mellowing him out. “Sorry,” he adds quickly. “You’re right. Of course you’re right.” He takes a deep breath. “And yet, here I am. Again.”

“Here we both are,” Des corrects. He smiles a little, rueful and apologetic, and for all the sorrow in his eyes Constantine’s heart still seizes at the sight of it, because dear god, he was beautiful. 

“You have to be here,” Constantine replies. “Neron forces you to. Me, on the other hand…” He shrugs. “You know me. Glutton for punishment.”

“And not always the fun kind.”

Des stares at him for a moment. The look on his face is hard to bear; too fond and too understanding and too full of every damned thing, really, that Constantine knows he doesn’t deserve. Not when Des was alive, and certainly not now that he was stuck in Neron’s limbo. 

Constantine had to hand it to him, though. This particular brand of cruelty was a stroke of genius, a carefully aimed twist of the knife designed to cause maximum pain with minimal effort. Neron had always been a clever little bastard. 

“This is selfish of me,” Constantine says, “but even though I know it hurts you, I’m glad I can see you here.” He pauses, then laughs a little. “Then again, when am I not selfish, eh?” 

“Constantine,” Des says slowly, his accent dragging his name out in the way that always made Constantine smile, “you’re a superhero on a time-travelling spaceship. You’ve saved the whole goddamn world.” He smiles again, sweeter this time, softer. “More than once, I might add.” He shakes his head. “Selfish is about the last word I’d use to describe you.”

And his eyes are so full of warmth, his voice so familiar as it says his name, that Constantine unthinkingly reaches out to touch him, to pull him closer, to feel the physical manifestation of that warmth and familiarity against his own skin. But his fingers pass right through him, Des’ face as insubstantial as air, and that sweet little smile fades as quickly as Constantine’s grief rises, sharp and stinging and knocking all the breath out of him. 

“Des,” he says, choking a little, as though the name is reluctant to escape his throat. And little wonder, Constantine thinks, when he makes it sound as painful as this. “ _Des_.” 

“I know,” Des replies, his voice just as rough, just as raw with things that can’t be expressed with words anyway. “Constantine, I _know_.” He hesitates, and during the pause Constantine hears a sequence of numbers coming from somewhere far away, repeating over and over as the sound gets louder and louder. 

“Ray-ray’s code,” he says. “Team meeting.”

Des nods. “You should go.” 

“Yeah.” Constantine takes a deep breath. “Yeah.” He gives Des one last, long look. “I’m coming for you, Des. It won’t be long now,” he says quietly. “Whatever that bastard tells you, I am coming to get you back.”

“Yeah,” Des says, and smiles again. “I know that too, Johnny.” 

* * *

Constantine comes out of the trance with a small gasp. The code is still blaring over the comm system as he slowly gets to his feet: _six-six-six, six-six-six, six-six-six_ —

“Six-six-six,” he mutters as he slips his trench coat on, and may or may not sing it to the tune of the song that Ray may or may not have made him learn in exchange for a week’s break from the chore wheel. Just before he leaves the room, he checks his pockets to make sure he’s got at least a couple of cigarettes stashed around somewhere. He can’t find his lighter, but he’s pretty sure Rory would oblige him. That bloke would do anything for a excuse to burn something.

“Six-six-six,” Constantine sing-songs as the door slides shut behind him. “Neron’s arse we will kick-kick-kick…” 

He straightens his jacket as he makes his way to the bridge. Time to get to work.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt 100 words of wanting someone desperately.


End file.
